


Hunter's Heart

by BadLittleKittyKat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon's Heart, Gen, Walker Death, Walkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLittleKittyKat/pseuds/BadLittleKittyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not smut. Just a little glimpse into the mind and heart of Daryl Dixon.</p><p>Daryl Dixon is learning to accept the world the way it is now. He was never that crazy about the old world anyway and his lifelong preference for roaming the woods instead of city streets and his resulting ability to survive on his own without the soft trappings of civilization has proved to be a great asset for the group of strangers who have come together for survival in this new, horrific world. For the first time in his life Daryl feels like he belongs somewhere and to these people he has come to call family.</p><p>Although Daryl is used to the nightmares that roam the world now with their blind urge to devour any living thing that crosses their paths and he thinks he is numbed to their horror, he is about to find out that even he can be shaken to the core when he least expects it.</p><p> </p><p>This is for sheer fun, not profit. I own no part of these characters or their world. I just like to play in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter's Heart

The hot Georgia road was littered with abandoned vehicles that formed a pileup of massive proportions. This place had been the scene of incredible carnage due to the accidents and the walkers that were drawn to the scene by the sounds and scent of their helpless human prey. Cars and trucks, some piled atop each other, overturned on their sides or roofs or standing silently alone where they'd come to their final resting places, now stood as makeshift markers in this twisted metal graveyard. It looked as though some giant child had grown weary of his toy cars and had scattered them carelessly across the ground.

A lone rabbit popped its head up from the shadow of a crushed silver Jeep at the center of the wreckage, startled by the sound of two approaching cars. It had not seen a car moving down this road in so long it had forgotten how terrifying those monstrous things could be and it felt the old panic rising as its little heart beat faster. Cars meant humans and humans meant death. The rabbit froze, hoping they would continue down the highway. When it realized the cars had come to a stop it turned and fled through the wreckage toward the field beyond the road. It was not about to wait to see what would happen as one of the humans climbed out of the first vehicle holding a crossbow in his hand.

With one swift, practiced movement the man quickly swung the bow up, took aim and fired. The arrow flew through the air straight and true and found its mark. The high pitched scream told Daryl Dixon the arrow had met its target and the dying rabbit had fallen somewhere in the tall grass.

Couple more of these big boys and we'll be eatin' fine tonight," he informed his companions before going to claim his prize.

He walked across the road, his eyes darting from car to car, watching for the slightest flicker of furtive movement that could mean walker or hostile human, either one a danger to them all, but nothing moved. The place really was a silent graveyard. He cleared the road in a few swift strides and climbed down the embankment into the field, following the rabbit's bloodtrail to the spot where it ended and located his prey where it had fallen.

Daryl rarely missed his target and he never let anything suffer more than it had to. He hunted with purpose and never just for the joy of killing. He'd had his fill of killing for years now and, frankly, he was sick of it, but they had to eat and many times all they had to sustain them was what Daryl and his bow could provide. They had grown used to eating things that only a few years ago would have been disgusting, but now were simply sustenance to keep them alive one more day. There was no thrill for Daryl in the hunt now, only the necessity of the slaughter, only the need for food. He was glad to have this job in this group. He was happy when he could provide for the family, but after all the kills, animal, walker and human, the joy of the hunt was gone.

The rabbit lay motionless at his feet. He yanked the arrow from its body, wiped it clean on the grass and bent to pick up the rabbit. As he wrapped his hand around its ears the grass only inches from its body moved as though ruffled by a sudden breeze, but it was a hot, windless day. Daryl froze, his hand still tightly gripping the rabbit. He held his breath and felt the blood, like thunder, in his ears as his heart began to race. But for that small patch of tall grass, the entire field was silent and still in the blazing sun. Daryl tensed, dropped the rabbit, stepped quickly back from the whipping grass and narrowed his eyes against the painfully strong sunlight.

As he watched, a hand groped its way out of the weeds. The pale, mottled flesh was torn and bones showed through the tattered, ragged skin. The hand was followed by a rail-thin arm that looked as though something had torn or chewed away chunks of flesh, leaving gaping holes that allowed the tall grass to poke through. The skin had darkened and was splotched with rot and streaked with dried blood, but it wasn't the condition of the hand that made his stomach churn and threaten to make him puke then and there. No, Daryl had seen plenty of rotting, stinking pusbags in the years since the world had gone to shit and people had started eating each other. Their level of decomposition, no matter how bad, how hideous, didn't disturb him. In the beginning it had, but not anymore. Over the years he'd seen enough walker horror that he'd grown accustomed to their gruesome, nightmarish appearance. He was pretty much numbed to it after so long. What made Daryl want to retch was not the condition, but the size of the searching, groping hand. The hand crawling out of the weeds was small. It was the tiny, once delicate hand of a child. As he watched and fought not to lose what little he still had in his stomach, the little fingers waved toward him, gently spider dancing in the air.

Daryl sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Till now every walker he'd been forced to destroy had been an adult. Because children were such easy prey child walkers were rare, but now here in a field in this God-forsaken stretch of Georgia Hell, Daryl was finally facing the one thing he dreaded. God, a child. How was he supposed to do what he knew he must to a child. He opened his eyes and stepped toward the small walker that still lay concealed from view. As he did, the little hand found the still-warm body of the rabbit and dragged it into the bloody weeds. His gut churned sickly as he listened to the small grunts and growls and the horrifying wet sounds the dead child walker was making as it began chewing and tearing at the rabbit's flesh.

He leaned down to push back the weeds to get a better look at what he'd be facing. It was a little girl, or had been once. Now she was just another....No, couldn't think of this one as just another walking pusbag. Not this one. Not this little walker. She was no more than ten and, although she was rotting and horrifying, Daryl could tell she had been a beautiful child with reddish-blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She had been a mother's beloved daughter and a father's precious little angel. She was dressed in a baby blue teeshirt that was torn and smeared with blood, but Daryl could still make out the name, Becky, stitched with yellow daisies and a pink butterfly. Daryl was glad he knew her name so she would not be forgotten. He would remember her. He could see a sprinkle of freckles on her torn cheeks and tough guy, Daryl, felt tears welling in his eyes as Sophia's sweet little face drifted gently into his thoughts. They were so much alike and his heart ached as it had when Rick was forced to put Sophia down. He was glad Carol had stayed with the car and was not beside him to see this. It would break her heart and to see Carol cry was something he couldn't bear.

"Daryl!" Rick's worried voice called from the pileup. "Dammit, Daryl! Where the hell are you? You okay?"

At the sound of a human voice the little walker's head jerked around and she snarled ferociously at Daryl. Her fierce red eyes locked on his. She growled and hissed ferally as she clutched the rabbit's bleeding body to her chest like a vicious dog guarding a bone. Bits of flesh and fur clung to her blood-smeared lips and blood oozed darkly from her gaping mouth as she continued to growl at Daryl. She stared at this new, fresh prey and let the rabbit fall from her fingers. She struggled to get to her feet, rising slowly with great difficulty and stood hunched and shaking, her tiny claw hands raking the air as she reached for him. He was shocked to see how emaciated she was. He could see where large chunks of flesh had been torn away leaving gaping holes that exposed her ribs and Daryl didn't know how much longer he could keep his stomach from heaving or his eyes from weeping. It broke his heart to know what this sweet little girl had gone through.

He raised the crossbow slowly and took aim as the ruined child staggered toward him, her savage eyes never leaving his, her little arms held out to him as if all she wanted was a hug. Her once beautiful little face was captured in the bow's sight. Daryl choked back the burning lump in his throat and placed Becky into his heart next to Sophia's memory. He took a breath and somehow managed to keep his aim steady though his hands were shaking.

"Becky, I'm sorry, Honey," Daryl whispered and fired.

Daryl rarely missed his target and he never let anything suffer more than it had to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanx for taking the time to read. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
